


Hypristiphilia

by MsTerror



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: Attempted Murder, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Demon Blood, Demons, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gore, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Injury, Major Character Injury, Murder, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex, Thriller, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 11:08:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20993819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsTerror/pseuds/MsTerror
Summary: Hybristophilia /noun/:an attraction to extremely violent criminals, or a person who has committed a gruesome crime._________________________He smelt of that familiar scent of copper, an earthy, husky undertone that was his own, and a hint of gasoline. He smelt of worst decisions and bad times.And as much as I hated to admit, I craved it.





	1. Prologue

**Prologue**

**____________**

No one said that life had to be all sunshine and rainbows. That all that once was thought of as innocent and wonder would be torched by harsh reality. Nothing in life is fair, nor does its little ticks of insanity that plague mostly in the demented seem to make much since to lifes fairness. In a matter of fact, it adds up; until every countable twists and shifts of reality come crashing down, when all the nuks and crannies are revealed for all eyes to see. Sometimes, death is better.

I was one of the many few to be granted such a devastingtating case. Nothing about me screamed excitement, nor pleasurable by personality. I was that type of girl who parents would avoid, that would be shuned out from society, and finally, be damned from existence. Once again, death is better.

But honestly, I dont blame them. I am a piece of shit after all. These thoughts, the things I think about, every _detail_ I want to do. The twist in my sanity bent from these feelings of self-loath and narcissistic behavoir that seemed to circle my whole deffintion of a being.

Before it went spiralling out of control, I was a pretty decent kid. I made good grades, went out and played with friends around the neighborhood from time to time, I did as my parents told, I was the average kid back in the day.

But that was years ago.

Now - well that's a tale for another day. Something we shouldnt get into right at the moment.

It all began with my brother and his cycling problem with society - its pretty common these days to be bullied - cyber, phyical, emotional, sexual, ect. Back in the 1950s you wouldn't have this problem and it was not such a critical topic as the twenty first century, you went to school, maybe be called a few names but once that bell hit 3:00 everyone goes there seperate way, or at least most of the time. Now a days, we have social media, and the list of possible ways of bullying are endless.

What would you do if you were being mistreated?

Blow all those fuckers brains out on the wall is my answer, but hey, thats my opinoin. However, I wouldn't use a gun.

My second and for most question is: What would you do if you had an option to rid the pain and suffering? Would you kill yourself, or would you kill the ones whom inflicted the pain? Or would you do nothing at all and just sit back and let it happen?

That was me, the one who sat back and let it all happen, I didn't care what others thought of me, its not like their opinions mattered in the first place. That is, until they included my older brother into their game of mockery; a few years back he went to the exact same high school I went to, Woodcreek High, a school known for stereotypical scenarios like the schools you'd see on the television. Though, I'd say its more closely related to Scream's version of high school - murder, murder, murder.

Lets just say my brother did not fit in with the popular crowd, he was after all, the schools weird kid that sat in the back of the class drawing in a notebook. And just like him, I did the same. I didn't socialize, and I didn't bother making friends.

But people started to question him. One night, before the annual holloween party that took place in one of the schools dorm, something happened.

And that something was murder - all of them, all thirty students were killed, stabbed in the stomach or had their throat slit clean to the bone, and some weren't that lucky. But I suppose none of them had lady luck on their side to begin with. Take one of the many mutualed body's for example: the flesh and organs was reported to be crushed into a paste in the pit of their stomach right in between the ribs and chest cavity to hold all the contains in, and don't forget the caved in skulls! They ended up looking like a puddle of bloodied soup, all chunky and gooby. Like day old chicken dumblings. And within their dorm room, written on the wall, appeared ":]" in fresh blood. No one knew who it was.

And they still have no leads to this day. And that was little over three years ago.

But - others at school blamed it on him, calling him a murderer, threatening to kill him next. My own brother. I knew he couldn't have done it, but something about him didn't seem right. I just wished I knew what was wrong with him before everything happened, maybe then I could have helped him.

But it wasn't my brother who made me see the darker side of myself. My _true _self.

It was the one of the known murderers of Woodcreek.

And his name was Jeffery Woods.


	2. The Forest

It was the beginning of September and it was still ninety degrees outside. Nothing about the weather as changed since June - and it was hotter then Hell it was. It seemed like it would last till December. A never ending heat wave that left the Earth drowning in the sorrows of the Sun that never seemed to stop shining those blistering tears of dismay. And it would heat up the ground, so much that forgotten plastic and jelly toys would become a diserad pile of liquid or bits and pieces of the figure would be unrecognizable that was unforctenly left outside in the sun. And that if you left a pet unattended out in your backyard without any water or shade, well, prepare to dig a 6 foot hole in the ground.

The only thing joyful was the lushes trees and their abundant supply of shade they casted. The smell of blooming poppys were also delightful, and the after dew in the crisp of morning is soothing enough to make me consider my opinion on summer. However, it was not to be. I didn't know why I had such a disdainful opinion of the season; maybe perhaps because ir didn't look well on me, dont get me wrong swimming is fun and all, but thats not my slice of pie. I'd rather sacrifice my well being to waste three days playing video games, no breaks, no rest - well maybe the breaks. A girls gotta eat after all.

Woodcreek was what you would call a community, or better understood as a rather small town of two thousand and thirty four residents, known at least, you could never tell with the slack in the system. It was more shabby then dandy as quoted by the in the pamphlet you'd find in the visitor's center, that is if Woodcreed still as one thanks to the buget cut the state of Maine announced.

_**"Come visit our dandy little town-"**_ it read in fine print, bold enough to stand out across the sea of grey, meant to catch the attention of passing traveler's that so happened was granted a free copy. Nothing about this place was dandy - it felt of ill luck and tragidy. Like every passing millisecond something catastrophic would accure, until there is nothing left but the guilt and pain of living through deaths glorious game of cat and mice.

Or maybe thats just me, who knows?

But there is one thing Woodcreek is infamous for: its reoccurring murders. The wicked seemed to florish and it only became worse with time. Woodcreek is the Devil's den, and there is nothing that a saint could do to save us from dismay.

There was no way of stopping something that couldn't be reversed, no matter how hard you pushed at life, death was always right around the corner, waiting contently to snatch up a delicious soul to chow on. But that wasn't the case. The Devil became impatient.

Or so they say. But if they say that, wouldn't it be so they say, so they say. Nah, I suppose not. Too confusing for the basic mind, they couldn't keep up.

But back to the matter at hand. There was only one element of summer I could deal with, and that was the bussling nature. Its something least expected from me, considering well, me. But I had my limits. And when it came to mosquitos they could burn this fucking bloody place to Hell. Woodcreek at least, September and still ninety degrees. What kind of fuckery is that?

My eyebrows nitted into a scowl, slapping and killing a mosquito that landed on my arm. "These fucking bugs." I was covered from head to toe in little red bumps, my arms and legs, even my face and neck were ichy. And this heat wasn't helping.

Some may say that it's a blessing that it was still summer weather, that you can still go out and swim and enjoy the sun. Me, however, wish it would hurry up and let those numbers on the thermometer drop to below zero. Maybe then I would not have to deal with these god damn bugs.

"Hurry the hell up, Helen!" I yelled. The black haired boy passed a glance at me, clearly annoyed, then back at what he was doing.

His fingers worked its way around a rope, pulling it right through a hole, then over again to tie the knot, and then repeat. He then proceeded to make a clearing for the rope, setting it down spwrad out; then neatly tieing it to a limb of the big oak tree we went to has kids.

It was a big buetiful, big oak tree - untill it was strucked by lightening a few summers back. Its trunk was split in two almost to its base, one side reaching as far to the ground as it could without snapping into two. Its bark was chard, with slotches of decaying, untouched parts still visible against the black. It was still magnificent. But, it left a dreadful aroa.

Like _death_, I suppose. It felt as if a dark matter as coated these grounds; but perhaps it was the decaying planets that added to that factor.

_Crack. _

I swung around towards the noise and strained to see beyond pass the tree line and into the deepening woods. I didn't know how far it went, a mile, maybe two? Or perhaps it went forever, spacing out miles and miles; which wouldn't be suprising. But all the more reason of getting lost. And why I wouldn't dare go into there.

_ZzzzZz. Crack. Thud._

I jumped back as a branch from a pine hit the ground two feet away from me. There was no reason nor cause for the sudden dismemberment.

"Shit," I cursed.

I fixed the heam of my shorts out of habit, more out of nervousness then anything else. Goosebumps started to form on my bare arms and legs, and my body went friget and stiff; my mind began to spin, not because I was dizzy or light headed. But because there was a buzzing sound. And it wasnt a bee. It sounded like when you flip a television to a blank channel.

"Do you hear that?" I asked. I turned to face my brother then back at the forest that surrounded us in a blanket of green and darkness. I could feel the buzzying vibranting from within deep in the trees. Warning, yet, calling for me to see what the source of the noise is from.

I took one step in the direction of the noise; it was beginning to become darker after every passing second I stared into the floor of the forest. I couldn't think of nothing else but that sound - it was hpnotizing - I couldn't hear anything else, not the birds, nor the wind, not even the slight toot of a train off in the distance could reach my ears.

Suddenly I was grabbed by the arm harshly and yanked away from the brooding woods. "Dont go in there!"

I pulled my arm away from his grip and rubbed where he left a red mark. He had a worried expression on, passing a look of distaste every other second at the forest.

Suddenly, the noise stopped. The growing darkness dispatching to where I could see inside the woods. There was no evidence that there was ever that fuzzy sound. The birds were singing, the wind rustled the leaves in a calming serenade, and the distance whistle of the train could be faintly heard. It was anything but silent, it was bustling with life.

What the actual fuck? Was I just hearing things, or did that actaully happen?

I couldn't stay mad at him for long, not with that worried look. And the feeling I was going crazy dampened my nerve to yell at him. But first things first, why was I out here to begin with.

"What was the reason you dragged me along on this nature trip of yours? And I know it not because of sight seeing." My question must have struck a nerve of his because as soon as the words left my mouth his face dontoured into a scowl only the spawn of satan could muster. I had that same sickening chill when his eyes locked with mine; ice blue staring domines into my (y/e/c) ones. I knew what he was going to say, he always says it. But this time he didn't.

"I'll tell you soon... Just not now." He more then forcefully shoved me back onto the path to the truck. "I was going to tell you today, but I'll just wait til you're ready."

There was something dark in his words. The way he said it with a monotone voice that made me worried of what Helen meant.

But I didn't question it or look back at him, I could still feel that icey glare glued on me.

"I can handle it," I said. "What was that rope for anyways?"

"That is not of your concern- I mean, how do I put this? Its a trap I made," he replied, passing glances back down the path. "Thats something I'll tell you later about. Right now isn't the time or place."

I stopped dead in my tracks. "Why all the secrets? Why have you've been acting strange laterly; please tell me its not those bullies again because I'll fucking murder them-"

Helen gripped my shoulders, hushing me from what I was saying; he had a small smile gracing his lips, almost identical to mine. "You don't have to worry over me, (y/n). I can fend for myself, you just worry about yourself." He paused for a few seconds. "I might be keeping a few secrets, and I will tell you them - you'll just have to trust me to tell you when I'm ready - when you're ready. I'm- I'm sorry."

"You know what - I don't even want to know... Just, stay out of trouble," I said, not wanting to egg Helen more. I wasn't good with emotions and comfort, let alone emotional comfort, plus I had my own demons to attend to; my stress level has reached its maximum capacity. And if his particular behavior had anything to do with his harrassers, the only way I know how to handle that conflict was to 'crack skulls and break bones.' And when I mean by 'break bones' I mean _break _bones.

Its the motto I learned back in my sophmore year of high school, the saying I'd say as a warning when the other students would come around for a second session of 'fuck with the weird girl'.

That didn't last long. Not my whole High School career anyways.

The walk back home was an awkward silence; only the sound of shoes taping on concrete and the jingle of keys as we stepped into our shabby apartment was the only communication between us. It as been like this for weeks, correction, months. Ever since last December when Helen went into the Woods by himself on the bleak of nighfall. Strange was not the clear description of what his attitude as been, but it was the simplest one I could come up with other than particular. But it was more than stange and particular combined - there was something he was hiding. There was a hidden fear in his eyes, anger seeping past the worry and masking his true intentions, but it was still there. The deepened dread. It was still present, even though how much he tried to mask it.

Maybe it was the stress of supporting himself and me? No parents. No support but yourself, and to top it all off you have to support another who uses up as more resourses than yourself, perhaps more if you think about it. That was Helen and me.

Our parents - that is a tale for another day.

A gruesome one.

I flipped on the television and plopped down on the couch, waiting for the list of homicides to be over with so I could see the weather.

Five murders in just two weeks. _Well, th__at's normal life in Woodcreek for you._


	3. Twisted Dreams, Dead Reality

The nightmare was always the same. Paralyzed, naked, cold. The eyeless woman would sit at the end of my bed and stare at me, as if she could even see me. Her face would scrunch up in recongizion, as if she was studying me, and than suddenly recongnize me like a person she used to know. But I knew she couldn't see, not with the glass protruding from her eyes. The blood that pooled down her skeletal cheeks were dried, caked and brown with a few drips of fresh crimson that were traped in her small yet deepening wrinkles, her lips were chapped and when she opened her mouth to let out an unadioble grunt she would flash her yellowed, decaying teeth; her gums being a sickly hue. But than again she looked ill to begin with -- dead perhaps.

And I would lay there, trembling under covers as she loomed over me. She would stare at me, getting close to my face, and than thats when I could smell the decomposing body before me. And when she ran a cold finger against my cheek, sniffling almost, I froze to almost stillness; my breathing seezing and my adrenaline spiking like liquid ice through my veins. And than she'd scream. She'd scream so loud that it felt like my ear drums were going to bust, and even a plane taking off couldn't over take her scream. It was all I could hear, not even my own. And than I'd scream, scream until I couldn't hear her no more, it was the only way it seemed. Finally she would disappear. And thats when I'd sit there, calmly might I add, but still frozen from the fear of death.

But this time she didn't. She just brought her face closer to mine, and then sniffed. Bending her neck in an unnateral nature that produced an unpleasant crack.

She wrapped her slender fingers around my neck. Her facial features were numb, there was no emotion besides the trembling of her cracked lips. I clawed at her hands, kicked even; or so I tried. I could not move. I was paralyzed. Perhaps I was dead. Dead just like the eyeless woman, maybe that is why I felt this empty void inside me. Because I was dead as that raccoon that was splatted on the road from this morning.

"(Y/n)," the eyeless woman crocked.

My eyes widened, not from the fact I was loosing precise oxogyn, but that this monster knew my name. As if my body came back to its senses, my arms flew up towards the woman. Her grip loosened once my hands snatched her skull. And with that, I smashed her head against the corner of my dresser. Some glass from her eyes fell out and scattered across the floor. Her grip on me finally broke.

Black tar: thats what her eyes appeared to be. Black, sticky tar mixed with what was left of her eyes slithered down her face like a snail on salt. And when she turned her head to face me, that gloop in her skull fell. Her left eye at least. Eyeball and all -- on the bed and floor. Black stuff splattering a bit on the walls and sheets.

"(Y-y/n), " she spoke once more.

"(Y/n).... (Y/N)!"

My eyes shot open to see the fear stricken face of my brother. I stood above him.

I wasn't in my bed as I remembered. The foggy window casting moonlight wasn't mine, nor the oak dresser and nightstand. I was in my brothers room. And that's when I felt it, the warmed handle of a kitchen knife in my hands, right against my brothers throat.

"What the hell! What the fuck is wrong with you!" Helen yelled.

I was just as shocked and scared as he was.

"I - uh I, " I stammered.

Helen quickly pushed the knife away from his throat. He casted a deadly glare, both of horror and fury. "Why - Why were you holding a knife to my throat? What the hell as gotten into you?!"

I just stood there. Dazed, frightened, worried. I had nothing to say. Correction: I _couldn't_ say anything. My mind was spiraling into a black hole of emptiness, unable to comprehend the situation at hand. I opened my mouth to say something but nothing came out.

But I could comprehend the tears that leaked down my cheeks. And the sob that did end up escaping my lips; I threw the knife to the ground, as if it was a poisonous snake and stepped away from my brothers bed.

"(Y/n)... Why?" He asked calmly. Though his eyes showed differently. He was pissed. However, I couldn't tell with Helen now-a-days.

"I'm sorry. I- I don't know. What?" I couldn't conjure intellegent words. "Dream. I was having the nightmare - the same nightmare. You know. And-and than I was here. Here in your room. But I dont. I dont know how."

But than I laughed, a crooked grin apearing on my face. More of relief than what it seemed. I probably looked choatic, psychopathic, but my mind felt too dazed to run on its own. I felt high. Perhaps I was? No, I couldn't be. I wasn't, but what could it be. What _as _gotten into me.

And I suddenly stopped, my brother was no longer in bed, but out and about holding the kitchen knife from earlier in his grasp. He was too calm for someone who just had a knife to the throat.

He sighed. "You need help. You're getting out of control." He was about to continue until I interrupted.

"The hell I won't! I'm fine... Just, I'm fine."

Helen sent a cold glare at me and sat the knife on his bed stand. "You know what dad went through with mom. You're acting exactly like mom before she..."

"I..." I had nothing to say. He was right.

She was sick, the kind of illness that eats away at the brain; metaphorically at least. She had hundreds of generations of bad genes cramped in one body, that spanned all the way back to the the (l/n)'s glory days that sooned was instinguished by the reality of maddness and manipulation of the earth. Maybe she was mad? Perhaps she had voices that nagged at her. Maybe they caused her to jump off the top stairs of two stories, or perhaps she did it just because. Who knows. She was sick -- or so my dad says... said.

"Helen, I'll be fine. I won't let this happen again." Even if I have to tie myself down. I thought.

He didn't answer straight away. "Just go to your room," he ordered. He rubbed his head anxiously.

Helen's tv suddenly flickered on. Instead of having normal night time cable - it was fuzzy, blank, with those black and white scribbles you'd usually see when a tv wasn't connected to any source. And than there was that same sound from the woods just a few days ago. A buzzing, ear-raping noise. It was coming from the tv.

"Get out now," Helen ordered again. His eyes darted between me and the tv with worried eyes, and than outside.

Right when I was about to reply he ran past me, slipping on his blue jacket and black converses, not minding about the grey sweat pants he wore at the moment. And than he flung himself down the hall to the front door.

I followed him in a quick pase. "Where are you going at a time like this?" I asked. He ignored.

But than he turn towards me, sweat coating his forehead, and his eyes darted from the living room to me then back at the front door's rusted doornob. It was his nervous tick -- to not make eye contact, to tap his foot vigorously against the ground, and to clench his fist until they were bone white -- but perhaps thats common, perhaps everyone does that. 

"Whatever you do, do not go outside. Do not follow me, do you understand? Stay away from the windows. Just go to your room and go back to bed. We will finish this conversation tomorrow. He quickly added, "don't open this door, no matter who it is. Me. Aunt Janice. The neighbors. No one. And I repeat: _no one_. Promise you'll abide by this, please?"

"Why?"

"Because I said so!" He yelled but soon softening his voice from his outburst. "Please, ok? Listen for just this once. I'll be back soon. Stay. In."

Than he left, slamming the door behind him. A picture on the wall fell in his quake and onto the floor with a shatter.

I picked up the picture, the glass was now cracked along its bottom right corner. My breath caught in my throat. It was us -- Mom, Dad, Helen, and then there was me, all sitting around a campfire in the woods. Such simple times. I thought. I was only eight, that was ten years ago, and I had the goofiest smile painted on my face, my small, chubby cheeks dusted with pink from the summer heat. And than there was Helen, whom had a toothy smile that stretched from ear to ear and his eyes were lit up in joy; something he doesn't do any more. He was eleven. My parents -- they looked joyful, happy. My dad held my moms hand. I haven't seen them in so long. I just wish I could see them one last time.

Why couldn't I see them? They were dead of course. And thats why I lived with my eldest brother, Helen.

We were orphans, left to die in this unforgiving world. But perhaps, maybe it was always like that.


	4. Stranger Danger

"Get back here!"

My head snapped behind me, almost quick enough to send stars in my gaze. I was being posude, chased by the very beings that I came to grimace at, and how I loathed them so. I stuck an improper finger in their direction.

"Eat shit!" I yelled.

Suddenly, something was hurled at my head, and sent me towards the sweet embrace of the ground. Dirt clogged my nose and stung at my eyes. The night due from the grass coated my clothing in its blades, and soaked through leaving my now-damp skin sending shivers from my muscles to my stiffened bones. I clawed my way up from my dead position only to be kicked back down. Another sharp jab of the heel at my ribcage and the chaser finally stopped. Pain blossomed around my torso in fiery pulses. I couldn't get up even if I tried.

"So, what now? Beat the living shit out of her, or should we have a bit more fun with her first?" The first male, whom I knew has Todd, asked his partner in crime. The other male's face scrunched up in disgust.

"No, man. If you're talking about raping her, I'm out."

"If you're a pussy, then why are you still here. If you're not gonna help then go fuck off," Todd said, lifting his massive, heavy foot off my back. I struggled to get up but before I could, he stomped on my right hand -- a viscous crack ranged in my ears threateningly loud. I could feel bone pierce flesh, and I peered at my crushed hand. I wish I hadn't.

And that's when I screamed the loudest I could, enough to hurt my own eardrums. My finger was, ,bent unnaturally, sickly. Enough to make me feel bile rise in my throat.

The unknown male held his ears, a string of unauble words poured from his mouth. Todd kicked me in the face and my head nocked back against the hard ground. I stopped screaming when I felt wetness pour from my nose. I could also taste mettlaeic.

I gritted my teeth. "Get the hell off me."

Todd chuckled. "Yeah, not happening. We got a score to settle."

"And what the hell could that be? I didn't do anything to you."

Todd bared his teeth. "You kicked me in the balls, you stupid bitch!"

"Oh, so you're here to beat me up or something because I damaged your pride and ego? Boo fucking hoo."

Todd snatched me up by the collar of my shirt and growled in my face. "No, I'm going to do so much worse. I'm going-"

I spat blood in his face.

He grimaced in disgust and released me, wiping away my spit from his cheek.

I took that as my chance and staggered up. Without looking back I dashed away from my attackers. I maneuvered around swings and slides, almost making it to the street. That was my goal until Mr unknown popped out of nowhere and blocked me from my current goal, leaving Todd to gain up behind me. That only left one other option: the woods.

And that's what I did, I sprinted into the woods. My lungs were burning and I could feel my legs becoming numb from all the cardio being forced on me. I haven't had to run like this since middle school. Damn, the times I do not miss.

My legs bucked under me and once again I'm acquainted with the ground, but this time less painful. Well, except my throbbing muscles.

I muffled my dry coughs with the back of my hand and stood up. Pain ripped through my hand and I cradled it in my arms, my gaze flickering between the trunks carefully. The hairs on the back of my neck stood as I spotted movement. And without warning I'm flown back against the ground, a heavy wieght crushing my body up top.

Todd loomed over me, his eyes were in slits, his hands quickly wrapped around my arms with white knuckles. I freed one arm and stuck my thumb into his eye, digging through the soft tissue. In return he screamed, his hand shot up and crushed mine in submission. Soon he had both my hands under his knees and his eye severally swollen.

He pulled something out of his pocket, it glistened in the moons light, shiny. And with a click it sprung open revealing a sharp knife.

He pressed it against my cheek. "Jonas, you got the bag?"

No reply.

"Jonas?"

Silence.

"What the hell? Jonas where the are you?" He took his eyes off me and sit his gaze around. "Damn pussy."

Well, it's now or never.

I gritted my teeth and brought my knee up, kicking him right in the crouch. Todd doubled over, and what I feared would happen, he cut deep into my cheek. I bit back my cries and scooted up under him. He recovered quicker then I thought, however, as he sliced my sleeve with his pocket knife in a sorry attempt. But with adrenaline spiking my veins again, my foot kissed his face menacingly, snapping his head back.

Too dazed to comprehend, I snatched the switch blade from his grasp. And without a second thought, I plunged the dirty blade into his swollen eye, right into the squishy tissue.

I brassed myself of his screams of agony, and switched the blade around his socket. Just a few more wiggles.

_Pop!_

His eye was stuck on the knife when I pulled it out. Like an eye cobob. Blood dripped down the handle onto my hands. This isnt as nearly messy as I anticipated.

I snickered. "Well, looky here. Tables have turned now haven't they?" I waved my prize in his face. "Now look at yourself, what a piece of shit. You had this coming to you." He whimpered in response.

Blood seeped down his face from his wound, slithering down his cheeks, mixing from spit that dripped from his chin. "I'm... I'm sorry. Just don't... I'll do anything!"

"It's too late for that."

I flung the eyeball somewhere unknown and buried the knife deep under his chin. He thrashed around, trying to fight with the little slither of life he had. Soon his movements slowed, his eyes open but glossed. His panicked breathing heaved one last time before exhaling with a gurgle.

He was dead. Todd was dead.

I killed someone.

"Oh god..." _I killed someone. _

My tight grip released and I threw myself back against the soft Earth. Right at my feet laid a fresh corpse. And I have no clue what I'm going to do. I felt my chest tighten.

I didn't feel guilt, nor did I feel sorry. I felt numb almost. It felt good, sweetly savoured, like it was meant to be.

But that didn't stop the fear that clawed down my spine. What was I going to do?

I could leave the body. But would that be smart? Jonas, that's his name, what am I going to do about him -- I wounder if he's close by -- perhaps I could rid of him and then everything will be nice and dandy. Yes, that's it. Get rid of him, drag there bodies alittle deeper, cover them in leaves and ditch. Not like anyone would suspect it's me.

Or maybe they would.

"Nice show. Could of used more blood, and gore. Who doesn't love some extra fucking blood to spice shit up after all."

My blood ran cold and I froze.

The gruffy voice chuckled deeper, still hidden from sight. "A virgin to slaughtering. How cute."

I quickly yanked the knife out of Todd and held it ready. I tried to conjure words, anything short of a reply, but I couldn't. It's like I forgot how to speak.

The man's voice held amusement at this, to my obvious fear or my sorry attempt at immindation, I did not know. "Lusting for more I see. Well, hate to break it to you babe, but I already took care of your other friend. Now it's just you, me, and that dead fucker right there."

I swallowed down the lump in my throat. "W-what do you want?"

"Mmh, what do I want? What do I want... Well, being locked up for years makes a man... Crazy." He laughs louder, closer, like he was right beside me. "I mean, I was always fucking crazy. But, you know, gotta make up for all those fucking years wasted in that shit hole."

My knuckles tightened around the handle. "Who are you," I seethed.

A chill slithered down my spine, licking at my skin. His voice sounded close enough, a hushed whisper that brushed my ear. "It doesn't matter who the fuck I am. The only thing that matters is what I'm gonna do to ya. Let's me turn that frown upside down... Permitally."

I backed up slowly away from the voice. I didn't know what this guy's problem was but I wasn't about to stay to find out.

My breath hitched in my throat. Ice filled my veins, all the way down to my toes. A hand creeped over my shoulder, another brushed my neck. Before I knew it I couldn't breath even if I wanted to, and I was gasping for air like a fish out of water. An arm locked my head against a hard chest, restricting my breathing and movements, the other tried to grab the knife from me.

Adrenaline took over and the next thing I know the pocket knife is protruding from the man's hand followed by a string a visouis cursing.

"You bitch-" But before he could finish I jumped on my heels, knocking the top of my head against his jaw. That only pissed him off more. The next thing I now, Im shoved into a tree. My head making a harsh impact, hard enough where it felt like it was going to split like a melon. His elbow crushed my windpipe; he used his free hand to yank the blade from his other, blood splattered over his clothing, some droplets landing on his face.

His face.

I could barely see, but what I could make out was terrifying. Sickenly twisted cuts ran from the corners of his chapped lips, curved jaggedly into a ghastly smile. The flesh around his eyes were scarred, rough, like they were burnt at some point. He had no eyelashes, or so from what I could tell. And ebony hair that cascaded down to just above his shoulders, razor cutted bangs that casted a darker shadow across his face.

He looked strangely familiar. Like I've seen him before. His features... That smile. Those light blue eyes that shine menacingly in the moons rays.

He quickly snapped me out of my thoughts, however, as he growled in my face before holding the pocket knife up. And then he released it down on me.

It lodged deeply into the trunk of the tree, right where my head would be if I didn't dodge.

He snared at this, bearing his teeth. "Fiesty. Just how I like my victims. It's oh so very fucking satisfying when that last drop of hope seeps from their bodies. Much like their blood, actually."

That's when it hit me like a ton of bricks to the face. How did I not know? That snare, looks just like...

"Jeffery Woods." I blurted out without hesitation.

He narrowed his eyes at me, before a the corners of his cut lips curled into a chilling smirk that pronounced his old wound. "In the flesh."

Before I could open my mouth he pulled out kitchen knife that put my puny switch blade to shame. He brought it up to the corner of my mouth.

"Now I'm going to make you pretty like me. Happy like me. A permanent fucking smile -- like mine."

More fear consumed my being. I was not about to be etched on by a fucking lunatic.

I used my free hand, which was the hand with the broken finger, and wrapped it around his wrist. I bit my tongue and tried to stop myself from crying. And with all my might I fought to pull the blade away from my face.

First of all, I needed to get that knife away from him. Second, get away from him entirely. Third and final, get the fuck out of here and never come back.

But he was too strong.

Next thing I know, instead of the blade carving my cheeks, it pierced my chin, slicing down. That's when I screamed and started thrashing around with everything I got. My other hand got loose from his knee and clawed at his arms. With both of his hands preoccupied, he couldn't stop me from fighting back.

With both my hands on his wrist, he couldn't advance his blade. Barely. That's when I shot my chance and high kicked him straight in the balls.

Always kick a man in the balls, it's his weak point. And so far it's been very effective, might I add.

His defense cracked for a split second; and with that I twisted my head, placed my elbows against the tree and my hands against his arm -- popping my head through his locked arm and slid down. I stumbled from him as he slashed at me, filled with unwavering rage.

Which I could use to my advantage.

I sprung up and darted around trees. Which and every way. Until I found a gaint branch and a good hiding spot. With a heavy stick in hand, I hide behind a tree. Sadly, there were only trees.

"Come out, bitch." He yelled from a distance. Soon I heard the faint crunching of leaves near by.

Just as he peered around my hiding spot I released all of my own anger on him.

I swung full force hitting him square in the face with the stick. The impact caused him to fall flat on the ground. The stick, however, was beyond further use and I threw the other half at his face.

He groaned, rubbing his head. "What the fuck..."

I quickly snatched the knife from his grasp and held it over him.

"You just got your ass handed to you."

"Huh- oh no you don't, bitch. Not with my knife."

"Oh yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No," he growled once more, launching forward a little.

I scoffed. "Don't like having the roles reversed? Too bad, _Jeffery_. You're an asshole and deserve to die."

"And you're a fucking stupid bitch that deserves every painful moment I'm going to inflict on you."

"Do please enlighten me on what you would do, you now, as your last dying wish before I finally kill you."

"Shit that would make you piss your pants just by imagining them," he seethed.

I chuckled. "Sure, sure-"

I was interrupted by a bloody buzzing noise before being flung a few feet back and cracking my head against a tree.

Everything felt hazy, blury. I couldn't see straight. I heard voices -- faint but it was there -- one angry, the other very... Different.

I cracked one of my eyes open to see absolutely nothing. The knife, Jeff's knife, was gone. I could have sworn I still had it when I... Wait, what happened? One minute I was there and the next I'm here. Alive. With no serial killer in sight.

After what felt like eternity I picked myself up and staggered my way out of the forest. Trying my damnest to come up with an convincing excuse to tell Helen.


	5. Dread

  
**Previously:**  
_After what felt like eternity I picked myself up and staggered my way out of the forest. Trying my damnest to come up with an convincing excuse to tell Helen. _

_

**1 Hour Later **

Warm water flowed through the crevices of my fingers, seeping into every nook and cranny until the once dried blood that coated my hands was washing into the sink, turning the water pink before disappearing down the drain. There was so much blood. On my hands, on my face -- everywhere. And It wasn't even mine. Not entirely, at least.

Most of it was on my hands; the other half drenched my face and neck, where my wounds are located. Crusty burgandy caked around the puncture wound on my right cheek all thanks to Todd, and more stained streeks ran down my cheek like wet mascara. I grimaced in disgust at it before ghosting a finger over the much deeper, jagged wound that ran down my chin. But it doesn't seem like it needs stitches. And besides, not like I could oford that anyways, I didn't have insurance.

I hissed sharply as I accidentally touch the cut, reeling back my hand like I just touched the top of a hot stove. It was still gushing out blood, not streaming like my cheek was before it dried, but it was still plenty enough to soak my neck and all the way down to the collar of my shirt.

I grabbed the side of my head, hands still dripping wet with water and clumpy blood. But I soon realized that was a mistake when the uncomfortable feeling of the mixture connected with my skin. It left half of my face completely covered in blood, matching the other side strikingly. Well, this make me almost look more psychotic then I already feel. _Am, _I corrected.

"Damn," I muttered. My fist balled up, knuckles paper white, right in front of me. And I stared at them. Intensely. They were still dripping, seeping through the cracks in my fingers.

"Dammit!" I slammed my fist down on the sides of the ceramic sink and ignored the dull pain that followed. Fingers curling around the sink, I sinked deeper on my heels and practically pressed my face to the mirror. My cheeks were flushed, staring at my reflection in blury comprehension. I cocked my head to one side, examing my soon to be scars. I grimaced at this.

"Why me, why.. me." I slouched against the sink more. "Now I'm probably in some deep shit."

Not if anyone finds out, that is. And that crazy lunatic on the loose... I still don't know. What if he comes after me? Oh, I _hope _he comes after me, especially in my own house. I'll rip that ugly head of his clean off his shoulders if I get the chance. Maybe I'm being over dramatic. Of course, I am -- I was barely strong enough to halt on of his arms. What am I going to do? I'm certainly not going to run away with my tail between my legs, even though that choice has the most common sense built into it, not to mention the smartest and safest. But what's the point anyways, about life?

If I'm going down, might as well be going down swinging.

After peeling my sweat and blood drenched clothing from my worn body, I took a shower to properly wash all the blood off; then I dressed my wounds. First I poured rubbing alcohol into them, cursing visously in response. And then I slapped Spiderman bandaids on like a professional. Two on my chin, one with Spiderman swinging and the other with his face as a repetitive pattern, and one on my cheek with just the logo 'Marvel's Spiderman'.

I stared down at my finger, however, not knowing what to do. It was bent strangely like a bent pipe, and splashes of purple and yellow took over my normal (s/c) hue.

"Wait. I know!" I quickly rushed to the kitchen and shuffled through every corner and cabinet. Only to come up empty handed. I peered feverishly at the clock that hanged about the livingrooms couch.

**1:03 A.M**,it read. I mentally hyerphentallated. I didn't know where Helen was, but he certainly wasn't home. I made sure too, checking every room in the small house. His keys were gone too. Why he was out this late, was my question. He hasn't been himself lately. And this was just the top of the ice berg.

There's no telling when he'll be home.

My gaze landed on a discarded red pencil lying on the floor, and like that my plan took form. Instead of Popsicle sticks, I'll use pencil! Yes, this will do. I snapped the pencil in half and grabbed the duct tape and paper towel.

My breath hitched, my other hand hovering over my broken finger. That's when I quickly snapped it back in form. I bit down on my tongue to stop myself from screaming but it muffled into a whimper that escaped my lips. Without hast I placed the pencil on each side of my finger, wrapped in a paper towel and then held it tightly together with duct tape. It wasn't pretty but it'll do.

Soon after I quickly rushed off to bed, not before checking all the windows and doors to make sure it was locked, of course. The last sliver of darkness was filled with twisted smiles and the beautiful orchitra of pitiful screams.

_______

"What happened to you?"

I peered up over my bowl of cereal to look at the dark haired boy in front of me. He had dark, puffy circles under his eyes. And his hair went which and every way, unkept, much like his wrinkled clothing he must have been wearing since yesterday.

I groaned. "I attempted the lovely activity of skateboarding only to consider it not so lovely as its made out to be. Its the opposite, actually." The lie rolled off my tongue like silk.

Helen snorted. "I've told you it's harder then it looks. Now look at you- wait, did you break your finger?"

I choked on cereal and coughed harshly into my fist. "Uh, no. I jammed it but it's all good now." Helen didn't buy it.

"(Y/n)," he said in a warning tone.

"I'm fine, Helen. Ok, I'm fine."

"If you broke it then you need to go to the doctors."

"No, I'm fine."

"(Y/n)?"

"What?"

He crossed his arms. "Let me see it. And those bandages on your face -- what happened."

Oh shit, he's suspicious now.

"I don't feel like taking off the tape, so no. And these old things? I busted my face on the concrete."

He shook his head. "No, no. You'd have many more injurys on your face if so."

My patience was on thin ice. "Helen. Im fine. No, I'm fucking dandy! Swell as can be! So leave me alone so I can enjoy my cereal in peace."

"I'm just worried about you."

"Well, you're not my parent so quit acting like you are," I seethed.

"What are you talking about -- I'm your brother! Is it wrong for me to care?!" He began to raise his voice.

I stood up from my chair, completely loosing my appetite. "No, but I hate being treated as a child."

"Because you are one," he snapped. It surprised me for a second, Helen doesn't usually loose his cool. But I quickly recovered from his outburst.

I grimaced at him. "I might be eighteen, but I'm still bringing in half of the groceries here, not to mention some of the bills. So please do tell, how the hell am I a child?"

"Your attitude, your temper."

"See! Acting like a parent! You're overbearing, you know?"

His voiced deepened, threateningly. "Well, at least I care. You know full well how much our parents cared."

"Don't you say that!"

"You know it as much as I do. You just don't want to except it. They did before, but they didn't later on."

My mouth tasted sour. All I wanted to do was get away from my brother and his chilling glare.

"I gotta get ready for work." I quickly fled the kitchen without another word dispite my brothers further dispute.

It's been a while since we last quireled. But that... That was intense. Maybe considering I was trying to keep my secrets hidden, but still, the mention of my parents got the gears grinding. All the memories, the good and the bad. But now that I think about it: there wasn't much there.

Maybe he is right.


End file.
